Enraptured
by Rosa Seravo
Summary: POTCThe Ninth Gate crossover: the car scene from TNG reimagined. 300 years ago, Elizabeth Swann sold her soul to save Jack Sparrow from the Locker. Now a demon recruiting souls for the underworld, her latest project is one Dean Corso.


In the 18th century, no one but Elizabeth Swann knew that she had sold her soul to Davy Jones in order to save Jack Sparrow from the Locker. Now cursed to be a demon recruiting souls for the underworld, she had become the world's only student of Dean Corso. And she loved him..

Elizabeth had been studying Dean Corso for a year, but the last month had been by far the most rewarding. Gently wearing away the Ice Nerd's emotional fortress of intellectual distance and amorality, coaxing out of him the passions imprisoned behind it, was an exquisite pleasure. She watched the hard, glittering black eyes gradually give way to limpid pools of plaintive yearning, watched the crusty wall of adulthood crumble to reveal a sweet and frightened little boy. It was so intoxicating she thanked herself over and over again for being smart enough to pick him.

Whether it was because he looked like Jack or because he was so alone in the world, she didn't know, but Elizabeth utterly loved Dean Corso. And it was that love that would pull him into the abyss from which there is no escape. The abyss he had always believed he was smart enough – and just barely moral enough -- to avoid.

Elizabeth was in the passenger seat of the SUV that Dean had stolen. She took his cigarette out of his mouth and threw it out the window. It was endearing, the way he started like a frightened doe at her sudden appearance. The poor fellow still didn't quite get it. She removed his glasses and put them in his pocket. She laid her hand on his cheek, admiring his chiseled features. It was clear from his puppyish expression that he wasn't angry with her anymore, but he seemed anxious, so she gave him the good, old-fashioned hynotic-stare treatment to help take the edge off. Hell's equivalent of softening up your score with a girl a drink.

It was gratifying when his heart came into his eyes. Three weeks ago, he didn't even know he was capable of falling in love, and now look at him – hopelessly smitten. Not that she had any reason to feel smug -- she was just as besotted with him. Good thing too. You have to love a man to win his soul.

It was time. She snaked her hand around the back of his neck and drew his head toward hers, tilting her own head in a slightly submissive position. It was important that Dean feel like "The Man." She edged toward him until her mouth was about half an inch from his and paused. He breathed in and closed the distance between them, folding his those perfect lips, so hauntingly familiar, over hers. Her heart almost stopped. His kiss was slow, hot and sensual, his mouth caressing hers gently and passionately, his tongue plundering her with a voraciousness that surprised her. The motion caused his silky mustache to create that same disturbing, delicious, feeling that Jack's had done so many years before as it brushed the corner of her mouth and the edge of her cheek. That tickle was the most devilish of sensations, inflicting pleasure and torture at the same time. His kiss intensified, speeding up the rate at which the maddening little hairs tantalized her tender skin. Ravishing. She'd missed her chance with Jack, but now she knew she would very soon feel that same sensation on her neck. Her belly. Her inner thighs. And her most sensitive spot of all. She suspected she would faint once those silky, black hairs started dancing upon that spot. The thought made her shudder and she moaned her desire into Dean's mouth. Answering her with a moan of his own, he took her into his arms and took charge.

Yes, it was her job to bend Dean Corso to her will, but there was plenty of time for that. For a few precious minutes, the demon Elizabeth could choose the luxury of surrender, and she did.

In the 18th century, no one but Elizabeth Swann knew that she had sold her soul to Davy Jones in order to save Jack Sparrow from the Locker. Now cursed to be a demon recruiting souls for the underworld, she had become the world's only student of Dean Corso. And she loved him..

Elizabeth had been studying Dean Corso for a year, but the last month had been by far the most rewarding. Gently wearing away the Ice Nerd's emotional fortress of intellectual distance and amorality, coaxing out of him the passions imprisoned behind it, was an exquisite pleasure. She watched the hard, glittering black eyes gradually give way to limpid pools of plaintive yearning, watched the crusty wall of adulthood crumble to reveal a sweet and frightened little boy. It was so intoxicating she thanked herself over and over again for being smart enough to pick him.

Whether it was because he looked like Jack or because he was so alone in the world, she didn't know, but Elizabeth utterly loved Dean Corso. And it was that love that would pull him into the abyss from which there is no escape. The abyss he had always believed he was smart enough – and just barely moral enough -- to avoid.

Elizabeth was in the passenger seat of the SUV that Dean had stolen. She took his cigarette out of his mouth and threw it out the window. It was endearing, the way he started like a frightened doe at her sudden appearance. The poor fellow still didn't quite get it. She removed his glasses and put them in his pocket. She laid her hand on his cheek, admiring his chiseled features. It was clear from his puppyish expression that he wasn't angry with her anymore, but he seemed anxious, so she gave him the good, old-fashioned hynotic-stare treatment to help take the edge off. Hell's equivalent of softening up your score with a girl a drink.

It was gratifying when his heart came into his eyes. Three weeks ago, he didn't even know he was capable of falling in love, and now look at him – hopelessly smitten. Not that she had any reason to feel smug -- she was just as besotted with him. Good thing too. You have to love a man to win his soul.

It was time. She snaked her hand around the back of his neck and drew his head toward hers, tilting her own head in a slightly submissive position. It was important that Dean feel like "The Man." She edged toward him until her mouth was about half an inch from his and paused. He breathed in and closed the distance between them, folding his those perfect lips, so hauntingly familiar, over hers. Her heart almost stopped. His kiss was slow, hot and sensual, his mouth caressing hers gently and passionately, his tongue plundering her with a voraciousness that surprised her. The motion caused his silky mustache to create that same disturbing, delicious, feeling that Jack's had done so many years before as it brushed the corner of her mouth and the edge of her cheek. That tickle was the most devilish of sensations, inflicting pleasure and torture at the same time. His kiss intensified, speeding up the rate at which the maddening little hairs tantalized her tender skin. Ravishing. She'd missed her chance with Jack, but now she knew she would very soon feel that same sensation on her neck. Her belly. Her inner thighs. And her most sensitive spot of all. She suspected she would faint once those silky, black hairs started dancing upon that spot. The thought made her shudder and she moaned her desire into Dean's mouth. Answering her with a moan of his own, he took her into his arms and took charge.

Yes, it was her job to bend Dean Corso to her will, but there was plenty of time for that. For a few precious minutes, the demon Elizabeth could choose the luxury of surrender, and she did.

Elizabeth had been studying Dean Corso for a year, but the last month had been by far the most rewarding. Gently wearing away the Ice Nerd's emotional fortress of intellectual distance and amorality, coaxing out of him the passions imprisoned behind it, was an exquisite pleasure. She watched the hard, glittering black eyes gradually give way to limpid pools of plaintive yearning, watched the crusty wall of adulthood crumble to reveal a sweet and frightened little boy. It was so intoxicating she thanked herself over and over again for being smart enough to pick him.

Whether it was because he looked like Jack or because he was so alone in the world, she didn't know, but Elizabeth utterly loved Dean Corso. And it was that love that would pull him into the abyss from which there is no escape. The abyss he had always believed he was smart enough – and just barely moral enough -- to avoid.

Elizabeth was in the passenger seat of the SUV that Dean had stolen. She took his cigarette out of his mouth and threw it out the window. It was endearing, the way he started like a frightened doe at her sudden appearance. The poor fellow still didn't quite get it. She removed his glasses and put them in his pocket. She laid her hand on his cheek, admiring his chiseled features. It was clear from his puppyish expression that he wasn't angry with her anymore, but he seemed anxious, so she gave him the good, old-fashioned hynotic-stare treatment to help take the edge off. Hell's equivalent of softening up your score with a girl a drink.

It was gratifying when his heart came into his eyes. Three weeks ago, he didn't even know he was capable of falling in love, and now look at him – hopelessly smitten. Not that she had any reason to feel smug -- she was just as besotted with him. Good thing too. You have to love a man to win his soul.

It was time. She snaked her hand around the back of his neck and drew his head toward hers, tilting her own head in a slightly submissive position. It was important that Dean feel like "The Man." She edged toward him until her mouth was about half an inch from his and paused. He breathed in and closed the distance between them, folding his those perfect lips, so hauntingly familiar, over hers. Her heart almost stopped. His kiss was slow, hot and sensual, his mouth caressing hers gently and passionately, his tongue plundering her with a voraciousness that surprised her. The motion caused his silky mustache to create that same disturbing, delicious, feeling that Jack's had done so many years before as it brushed the corner of her mouth and the edge of her cheek. That tickle was the most devilish of sensations, inflicting pleasure and torture at the same time. His kiss intensified, speeding up the rate at which the maddening little hairs tantalized her tender skin. Ravishing. She'd missed her chance with Jack, but now she knew she would very soon feel that same sensation on her neck. Her belly. Her inner thighs. And her most sensitive spot of all. She suspected she would faint once those silky, black hairs started dancing upon that spot. The thought made her shudder and she moaned her desire into Dean's mouth. Answering her with a moan of his own, he took her into his arms and took charge.

Yes, it was her job to bend Dean Corso to her will, but there was plenty of time for that. For a few precious minutes, the demon Elizabeth could choose the luxury of surrender, and she did.


End file.
